


a good thing

by m_feys



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Character Study, Dealing with past trauma, Gay solidarity, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, POV Will Byers, Will-centric, and loneliness, and unrequited feelings, gay author, thats me. i am gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 06:56:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20560106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_feys/pseuds/m_feys
Summary: "Just please don't tell the others, okay? They won't understand.""Eleven would.""She would?""Yeah. She always did."





	a good thing

He had said she would understand. Will never really got to learn that for himself. Not with all the time she spent alone with Mike. And Mike alone with her.

He supposes he had resented her for that, at least a little bit. He hates those ugly feelings though, especially when they're about his friends. Or his family. He just felt so _alone_.

-

It's not easy to stop feeling alone. Not after being that way. Even just for a week. So, _so_ alone. Or a year. Having visions, feeling things only he could understand, and being trapped— in his own head.

Jonathan is good at making him feel less alone, he has practice. For a long time, it used to be just them, with the sound of yelling in the other room, and now maybe the yelling is in Will's own head, but it's still there and Jonathan is still there with him. He helps drown it out.

His mom is good too, she doesn't always get it, but she will always, _always_ try until she can. And when she can, she works to fix it, always, no matter how big or small. And she's great at hugs. Always has been.

His friends— his friends are something else altogether. Sometimes they're right there where he needs them, being what he needs the most. Most of the time they are, he thinks, which is maybe generous, if he's being honest. But sometimes— sometimes they make him feel more alone than ever.

Lucas is so determined, and reliable. But so quick to judge, at times. And Dustin is so patient and careful, but he can also be so stubborn. And Mike— Mike is the best at it. And the absolute worst. Maybe it's because he's _Mike_. And if Will never thought they would grow out of playing DnD in his basement, maybe it was because of Mike. Because maybe he thought they were the same. Or maybe he just wanted them to be. Wishful thinking.

Right now, if he feels so alone, Jonathan can't help, because he's never been alone _like this_. And his Mom really will never _quite_ get it, no matter how hard she tries. And it's like Mike said:

_"It's not my fault you don't like girls."_

None of his friends would ever, _ever_ get it. He knows that now.

But the other stuff, the storms in his head and the always aloneness. He thinks Mike might have been right about that too. Eleven might understand those things better than anyone else. And he's starting to think she could get the other stuff too.

-

The new house isn't actually new. It's like theirs; it's been a home before. It's been lived in, and the carpets have been walked on, and the bedrooms have been refuges, and the walls have been galleries. He knows from all the pin-prick holes in his bedroom wall. He likes it. Maybe they were an artist too. Maybe they were like him.

He doesn't like being like him. Not when it feels so lonely. His mom always tells him he's perfect the way he is. And his brother tells him he doesn't need to be like everybody else. That being different, strange, a freak— was far better. And he likes that idea. But the thing nobody tells you about being a _freak_ is that it's hard to find any other freaks. And if you do, there's a chance that, well, maybe they're like everybody else so they don't like _you_ anyway.

Besides, his dad had always told a different story.

-

He gets his heart broken by a boy for the second time that year. He lives down the street from Will and he's never had a girlfriend before either. Will gets his first kiss under the cover of the oak tree in his back yard. Then he slips out the gate and walks home. And after that, he refuses to acknowledge Will even exists.

He tells himself he's had worse. He's almost died, several times, he's been controlled and lost and twisted. He should just shrug this off. Jonathan tells him it's not fair, and it's ok to be upset. He cries into his brother's shoulder, even still, he can't bring himself to tell him they had kissed. Maybe Jonathan knows anyway, maybe it's easier to think he doesn't.

-

"Do you think you can love a friend?"

He looks up at her, away from his drawing. He's been using color pencils more nowadays. The answer comes easy, instant, "yeah. You definitely can." He does. He knows.

"Even if you want them to hold you, and be close to them?"

Will finds her questions a little unnerving sometimes— just because, most of the time, he doesn't know the answers. But he finds he likes talking with Eleven anyway. Something about the way she says things.

Like, he always loved how much the others talked because they filled up the silence so easy and he could just respond when he wanted to. Talking was never his strong suit and his dad would always tell him only to speak when spoken to.

But Eleven, she's different. She's like him, she doesn't like talking so much either. And the way she phrases things, in the shortest, most effective way to convey what she needs to. He understands.

He hesitates, "you mean like... with Mike?"

She looks at him curiously. He likes that about her too. Always curious, always looking at the world, taking in everything around her. He did that too, it was important with art. Seeing all the little details everybody else brushes over, takes for granted. He should draw with her sometime.

"I love Mike," she admits slowly after some time, and Will thinks he knows_ that,_ he really does. "I _think_... I like kissing him," she says, "but different, like, what if there was someone else and I miss the way sh— this person held me. A lot."

He blinks. He puts down his pencil. "A friend, but not Mike?" he clarifies.

"Yes." then she freezes, "please don't tell Mike," she pleads, suddenly panicked, "I just wanted to know, is that— _normal_?"

"I won't tell Mike," he assures after another stunned moment, she looks frantic. "Promise," he adds and she relaxes somewhat. Her eyes are still shining and he thinks maybe she's more worked up about this than she wants to let on. She didn't go talk to his mom about this, even though they talk more than El and himself ever have, and maybe she knows it about him too. Because he never said anything but somehow it always feels like everyone around him already knows. It's frustrating, and unfair, because he just wants control over this one thing. This one piece of himself.

"Will you sit down?" he sighs, his eyes shining now too. He really hates these ugly feelings. Things that make him weak.

She does, sitting tensely across from him. And he could ask her a hundred things. Like _'why did you come ask _me_ this?'_ Even when he already knows the answer. Or _'is this about a girl?'_ But he knows what it's like for someone else to say it for you, and he _knows_ he hates it. Or even play dumb, _'what do you mean, are you asking if friends can hug?'_

He doesn't ask her anything though, "El, I don't know what's _normal_. I just know, I'm not." And he feels frustrated, and strung out, and _so_ tired of feeling alone.

She doesn't respond, doesn't even nod. Instead, she just looks down at the table and _considers_. And he goes back to drawing and lets her do what she does.

"Do you feel the same way?" The question doesn't exactly startle him, he knew she was still there. He had just gotten used to the silence, you always do, eventually.

He looks up at her and wills away the tears in his eyes, to no avail. And he thinks of Mike. And that boy down the street. And the boy in third period who's nice to him sometimes. And, "yes," he says, breathless. She nods this time. And he wonders if she knows, knows who that _friend_ was for him. Who he used to maybe want to be something different. Not anymore though, he knows that was childish. Stupid.

"It's lonely," he admits to her slowly, "feeling like this," and he doesn't mean for his voice to break and he hates that too.

She nods again, and this time she reaches across the table and covers his hand with her own. "Yeah," she agrees, "it is."

And that's amazing, Eleven gets it, even when no one else does. He doesn't mean for the tears that spill onto his cheeks and he swipes them away with his sleeve, even as more rain down in their place. He shifts his hand to grab hold of hers. He nods too.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

He hesitates on the _'I don't know,'_ because that's the truth with most of his apologies. They just became instinct at some point and usually, he doesn't actually know the reason why. Maybe because he feels like everything is his fault, or maybe because he wants to absolve himself of the guilt, or maybe he just doesn't want anyone to get _angry_. Now though, he says, "I was wrong about you."

"Wrong how?" she asks, a concerned knit to her eyebrows.

He gives her a shaky smile, their hands are still clasped. "I thought you were like the others, but you're not."

She stares down at the table, hair hanging around her face in curtains. Then, she’s looking up at him through her lashes, "and that's a good thing? That I'm not like the others?"

"_Yes_," he breathes, "_yes_, that's a good thing."

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if you liked it! I really love Will as a character, and it's actually a crime we basically never got to see Eleven and Will interact one-on-one in canon.
> 
> Also I just wanna say, all this is from Will's perspective so it's not without bias, he's a lonely kid and I wanted to write that. I personally have lgbt headcanons for more than just will and eleven.
> 
> edit: oh yeah ill link my [tumblr](https://ccentaar.tumblr.com/)


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